


DA Drunk Writing

by catlavellan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drunk Writing, F/F, F/M, Kisses, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:46:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8658505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catlavellan/pseuds/catlavellan
Summary: All of the prompts I have received while doing the Friday Night DA Drunk Writing Circles!





	1. “Come here. Let me fix it.” Zevran x Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by http://5ftgarden.tumblr.com/ <3

“Ow! Fuck! Andraste’s puckered asshole, that hurts!” Kalliah cried, staring at the pinpricks of red now blossoming on the palm of her hand. She tossed the sword she had been sharpening aside, shoving herself off of the log by the campfire and stalking towards her tent. Once inside, she knelt amongst the furs, getting increasingly frustrated at herself for getting cut on a _dull bloody sword_ of all things. The tent flaps opened softly behind her, and a voice with a thick, Antivan accent asked gently,

            “Are you alright, my Warden? I heard one of your more…colourful expletives.”

            “I’m fine, Zevran. I just cut myself on that stupid sword.” Kal sighed, dabbing at the blood with a cloth.

            “Ah, were you practicing the mighty abilities of the Arcane Warrior? Very impressive, _tesoro mio.”_ Zevran practically hummed, one hand running along Kal’s shoulder.

            “Actually…” she swiveled towards him, tugging on his arm to bring him down to her level, “I was just sharpening the fucking sword. I haven’t even started to practice.” She let her head thump against his chest, sighing heavily, “I don’t understand why I have to learn this. Becoming a giant spider on command is _so_ much more fucking intimidating than waving a sharp, metal stick around.” She clenched her fists in frustration, inhaling sharply as she squeezed her new wound. Feeling calloused hands slip down her arms, to grip her hand delicately, she looked up at the elf in front of her.

            “Come here, _cara mia,_ let me fix it,” Zevran whispered–face only a hairsbreadth away from her own. She tried to pull away briefly, murmuring

            “I can take care of myself,” only to be cut off by his lips against her palm as he breathed,

            “You are a mage who is useless at healing. I’m going to help and you cannot stop me, my dear.” He pressed the cloth against her palm a little harder, swallowing her gasp with his lips, and licking away the pain with his tongue against hers. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access and carefully pulling him closer. “That’s better,” he smirked.

 


	2. "Oh my God, you're in love with her!" Cullen x Lavellan (ft. Hawke)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by http://thewildelf.tumblr.com/ <3

     Cullen looked up from the bottom of his tankard, straight into the shockingly alert, violet eyes that he usually found himself trying to avoid. Cat smirked at him from across the Herald’s rest, walking down the stairs with Sera, and he couldn’t help the fact that his eyes followed her all the way across the room. As she made it to the doorway, she tossed a glance back at him, seemingly not surprised at the fact that he had been staring since they first made eye contact. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as they often did when she looked at him, a light blush flushing her cheeks. She laughed at something Sera said and shot him a wink before vanishing into the dimming outdoor light. Nearly choking, Cullen took a deep swallow of his ale, trying to quell the red color in his face and neck, when he heard someone clearing her throat next to him. Hawke looked at him with one quirked eyebrow, honey-colored eyes full of mirth, clearly realizing the fact that he had forgotten that he was here with her in the first place, in order to catch up.  
     “Oh Cull, you’re fucking her!” She cried, with her tinkling laugh–a sound he was far too familiar with from their time in Kirkwall. He looked at her for a beat before taking another swig from his mug, eyebrows crinkling together. “You know, I always kind of pictured you as a sexless being when we were in Kirkwall…I’m glad you’re finally getting some action, you poor man.”  
     “Is it bad that part of me regrets never throwing you into the Gallows?” He joked, reaching for Hawke’s tumbler of Antivan whiskey, and taking a swig, hearing the mage laugh beside him.  
      “What, you don’t want to talk about it? No fun,” she pouted, looking suspiciously familiar to a certain pirate he knew.  
     “It’s not important,” he said, eyes flicking back to the doorway where he last saw the Inquisitor. Hawke seemed to pick up on his eye line, because her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped, forming into a perfect “o” shape.  
     “Oh Maker! You’re in love with her!” Cullen whipped his head back towards his friend, eyes narrowing as he near-frantically tried to shush her. “Don’t try to deny it, you big softie! I can totally tell!”  
     “Rowen, please!” He begged, clutching her forearms, trying desperately to get her to quiet down.  
     “Oh, hush. If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure she loves you too, you stupid Templar.”  
     “…former Templar,” he said, though his eyes were on the door and his thoughts were on the redhead with the amethyst eyes. Maybe she loves me too, he thought.


	3. "That's it, I can't do this anymore." Trevelyan x Josephine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by http://roguelioness.tumblr.com/ <3

The door to the War Room swung shut with a thud, and at the sound, Rose turned swiftly towards the only other person in the room with her. Josephine stood at the opposite end of the War Table, clipboard and quill in hand, scribbling away, and before Rose even knew what she was doing, she had slammed her hands down onto the wooden table before her and exclaimed,

            “That’s it, I can’t do this anymore.” Josephine looked up from her work at the Inquisitor’s sharp comment, her perplexity already visible across her face.

            “Inquisitor?” She asked, innocent voice matching her one lifted eyebrow.

            “I’m…sorry, Josephine, but I just can’t take it anymore,” said Rose, hands lifting to grab onto her dirty blonde locks as she avoided eye contact with her favored advisor. “I thought I was being so obvious, but I’m starting to think that you’ve had no clue how I feel,” she said, blue eyes refusing to leave the floor. She heard a soft gasp from across the room, and dared to dart her eyes up towards the woman before her, seeing Josephine with wide eyes, pink cheeks and parted lips. The mere sight sent a chill through her, urging her to force her eyes back down, hoping not to scare the perfect being that stood, utterly in awe, across the table.

            “Lady Trevelyan…” Josephine started, “Rose…” at the sound of her name, Rose lifted her head to tentatively meet her friend’s eyes. “I–“ Josephine stopped herself, seeming to reconsider her choice of words before swallowing and then striding around the War Table. When she stood a mere few centimeters away, she spoke once more, murmuring, “I didn’t dare hope that you meant more than mere flirtation.” Rose’s eyes softened, seeing the sincerity in Josephine’s eyes.

            “Josie…” she started, one hand going to her advisor’s waist as the other hovering near her cheek. The Antivan leaned into her Inquisitor’s outstretched palm, pressing into the cool skin, relishing the feeling against her overheated flesh. Hazel eyes met icy blue ones, and before either completely realized what they were doing, Rose felt her mouth slanting over Josephine’s soft lips, letting out a breathless gasp at the first taste of her tongue. “You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that.”


	4. "Corypheus gets a cold and makes his henchmen's lives hell"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by someone through the DADrunkWriting blog <3

     Calpernia sighed as the cool, mountain wind ruffled the papers that were strewn across her makeshift table. She could hear the loud chatter of her Venatori, and the presence of the Red Templars a few feet away certainly made her nervous. She caught eyes with Samson, the other Lieutenant, and tried to shake away the chill that travelled down her spine. Turning back to her research, she heard a voice in the not-too-distance shout her name. Her spine turned straight as an arrow, and she saw out of her periphery that Samson also jumped to his feet as Corypheus’s gruff voice reached her ears across the camp, and she waited for her master’s approach, hands behind her waist.

            “Yes, my lord?” she asked, voice carrying across the shrill wind.

            “Calpernia…”he said, making a sound suspiciously like a sniffle, “I require your assistance.” Samson overheard what their God was saying, and strode towards them in two short strides.

            “Perhaps I can be of assistance, my liege,” he said, in his entirely insufferable drawl, which grated against Calpernia’s ears. The magister only rolled his eyes at the lyrium-addicted fool, turning back towards the brilliant mage before him.

            “Tell the Venatori to prepare to attack,” he said before turning on his heel and beginning to stride away. Calpernia had already begun to formulate battle plans in her mind when Samson sputtered awake beside her.

            “Your Grace…what about the Red Templars?” He called, causing Corypheus to still as he stalked away. The enormous, blighted being turned around, only to grab Samson around the throat and hoist him into the air.

            “Your fucking Templars failed me when they rallied around the Inquisitor. I’ll kill you and every single one of them if I have to…” he said, though his sentiment was sharply cut off by a violent sneeze that sprayed blight-snot straight into the face of the groveling idiot that was Samson. Calpernia barely managed to restrain herself before she snorted a laugh, earning a look of pure ire from both her Commander and her co-Lieutenant. The Elder One dropped his favored Templar, striding over to where Calpernia stood, and threatened her, “you dare scoff at me, worm? Perhaps you’d like to…. _ACHOO!...._ join Samson and his forces in death when I throw them off of this mountain?” He shouted, though he had sneezed all across Calpernia’s chest, coating her neck-high armor in a fine layer of what she could only assume was darkspawn snot. She turned her delicate nose away, trying to avoid the brunt of whatever sneezes may follow.

            “Perhaps, my lord, you might allow me to cast a healing spell upon you? You appear to be ill,” she said gently, though from the fury in Corypheus’s eyes at her suggestion, she quickly realized that he did not care for her offering. Seeing the red glow of his blighted flesh swell, she turned tail, running back towards her table and grabbing Samson by the wrist. She pulled him down beneath the shelter of the desk just in time for Corypheus to unleash a blast of red-lyrium-energy and a roar so mighty that even the Inquisition’s forces at the base of the mountain in Haven could hear it.

            “This is going to be a _long_ process,” Calpernia sighed, even as she thought, _I am surrounded by idiots._


	5. "Shut up and kiss me" - Cullen x Lavellan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by www.ma-sulevin.tumblr.com <3

“ _Adamant Fortress_?” Cullen’s incredulous voice rings out across the seemingly enormous War Room. “It is _impenetrable_ , and you are suggesting that we _wage war_ on the _Grey Wardens_ within it?”

  
“Yes?” Cat offered, suddenly less sure of her decision. Leliana and Josephine made eye contact across the War Table before sweeping out of the room, leaving nothing but the echo of a slamming door, and near-palpable tension hanging in the air between the Inquisitor and her Commander. “Cullen, you have to understand why I must do this–“

  
“Shut up,” he ordered, striding around the table to stand only an arm’s length away from her. Cat blanched.

  
“What?”

  
“Of course I understand why you have to do this. That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he said, stepping closer and extending a gauntleted hand towards her cheek.

  
“I-“

  
“Shut up and kiss me,” Cullen said, closing the gap between them, and sliding his hand towards the nape of her neck, and into her hair, tilting her head back slightly. Eyes nearly brimming with tears at the thought of the sentimental fool in front of her, Cat pushed him away with a scoff before throwing her arms around his neck and leaping into his waiting arms to crush her mouth to his.


	6. "Holiday or Winter Traditions" - Asha x Krem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by www.fenfelassan.tumblr.com <3

Though it was almost three in the morning, and Skyhold nights were always cold, the kitchen in the bottom of the Keep was almost sweltering between the candles lighting the room, the fireplace blazing, and the overheated oven. Asha lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead, inadvertently leaving a streak of flour across her face. Her eyebrows were drawn tightly together in concentration as she struggled to knead what was supposed to be bread dough, but actually looked more like lumpy oatmeal. With an exasperated sound, she shoved the dough away from her, flexing her aching hands.

  
“ _Porca miseria!_ ” She cried, slamming her hands down onto the table. As her head dropped, someone cleared their throat at the door that lead out towards the barn.

  
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Asha whipped her head towards the sound, unused to being snuck up on. Krem was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest as he smiled at Asha.

  
“Shouldn’t you be on a mission until tomorrow?” She said after she recovered from her suspicion and subsequent surprise. 

  
“We got back about an hour ago,” Krem replied, as Asha noticed that he had changed out of his favoured armor for just a form-fitting shirt and breeches.  “I was going to make you some breakfast to surprise you, but I can’t say I’m disappointed to see you here, instead.” Asha flushed softly as he slowly strode towards her, leaning over her shoulder towards the table to see what she was working on. “What are you making, anyways?”

  
“Ugh,” was her only response as she buried her face in her flour-covered hands, dark hair falling around her in disarray. Krem exhaled through his nose beside her, pulling her arms away from where they hid her expression from him. She looked up to meet his ever-warm, hazel eyes. He gazed at her not with exasperation, but understanding, the sharp lines of his jaw softened by the smirk that quirked the corners of his full lips up towards his cheekbones. One hand still gently holding her wrist, he settled the other on her waist, where she could feel, through the fine linen of her tunic, the heat permeating her skin from his calloused hand. Asha sighed heavily before inhaling a cut-off breath, wrenching her forearm from Krem’s grip. His look of almost-hurt surprise vanished as she quickly brought her palms to his jaw, screwing her eyes shut and pressing the bridge of her nose against his. “I missed you,” she breathed, her words fluttering against his cheeks, and he nearly melted at the thought of it. Asha–also known as the ice princess of Skyhold–was so worried about him that she couldn’t sleep. He tightened his fingers in the fabric of her shirt as he pulled her flush against him and captured her lips in a ravenous kiss. Both of their chests were heaving with laboured breath and emotion when they finally pulled away.

  
“I missed you too,” Krem whispered against her dark hair as she nestled her face into the crook of his neck. They stayed in their embrace for several moments before leaning back to look at each other once more. “Alright,” Krem said, reaching to brush a thumb across Asha’s high cheekbone, “now let’s try to fix whatever it is you were trying to make.” Asha giggled self-deprecatingly at the reminder, groaning slightly as Krem took a look at the ball of taupe-coloured mush on the table. 

  
“I don’t think that’s possible,” she said, gesturing towards her earlier handiwork. Krem prodded the mixture suspiciously.

  
“What…exactly…was this supposed to be?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

  
“It was supposed to be this sweet, Antivan holiday bread that I fell in love with while I lived there. It’s a tradition that a woman makes it for the person she fancies and gives it to them for Satinalia…. I wanted to give it to you when you got back…” Asha’s voice trailed off into a mumble as she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, running her hand up and into her short, black locks, before mussing them in a way that she knew would hide her red ears and nervous eyes. Krem chuckled quietly as he pushed her hair back from her face.

  
“I love you, you know,” he said, earnestly. Asha’s eyes snapped up from the floor, grey finding hazel, and she near-desperately searched his face for any sign of malice or regret. Finding nothing but Krem’s same endearing smile and brutal sincerity, she leapt onto him, seeing his eyes widen in surprise as she sent them both barreling to the floor. She lay a barrage of kisses upon him, starting on his cheeks, before moving to his nose, his forehead, his neck, and then finally his lips, where she lingered, swiping her tongue into his mouth as she pinned him to the floor with her bodyweight. She lifted herself off of his chest, though still straddling his hips, as he blinked up at her, slightly dazed. “I–um.” He opened and closed his mouth once more, seemingly not knowing what to say. Asha gave him a hard swat on the shoulder.

  
“I love you too, you insufferable idiot.” Krem relaxed noticeably at Asha’s words, lifting his hands to intertwine with hers as she pulled him back up to a seated position. He hugged her close to him with is arms around her lower back, grinning up at her.

  
“Okay, I know it’s an Antivan tradition for you to make the bread for me–the handsome, dashing man you love” (he received a half-hearted swipe at his side for that) “–but maybe we should make our own tradition.” Asha raised a curious eyebrow at him. “What if we make it together? You know the recipe, and we both know that I’m better at baking than you are– _don’t hit me_ ; you know it’s true. I love you, but you’re a useless chef–so maybe we make it together and share the bread before Satinalia. What do you think?” 

  
“A tradition of our own, huh?” Asha smirked.

  
“And I’ll bake for you as long as you’ll have me,” Krem replied.

  
“Thank the Maker that my knight in shining armor arrived in time to fix my baking mistakes before the holidays,” Asha cooed wryly, wrapping herself around her lover like a snake. “I think this is a tradition that is best started tomorrow, however. I have other plans for you tonight, _Lieutenant…_ ”


	7. "Teach me how to kiss?" Zevran x Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran and Kalliah Surana share their first kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by xxbonegirl11xx on tumblr!

 The dim light from the campfire that filtered in through the semi-sheer walls of her tent turned the atmosphere warm inside of it. Kalliah sat facing the entrance, her legs crossed beneath her as Zevran braided her long, ebony hair with hands that were far softer than she ever expected an assassin’s to be.   
     “Well, my dear Warden, does this satisfy your expectations for the night?” He asked, laying the braid gently over her shoulder, as if in offering. She smiled, running lean fingers across the perfect plait–something she had come to expect after bringing Zevran into her little crew.  
     “Well done as always, Master Crow, thank you.” He inclined his head behind her, and moved to leave before she spoke again, stopping him with a voice so quiet he almost had to hold his breath to hear it. “I have another task for you, if you’re up for it.” Zevan, holding himself just before the door of her tent, expelled his breath and turned towards Kal, a smile blooming across his face.  
     “And what might that be, my lady?” He chuckled, before he noticed his companion’s half lidded eyes and his breath caught in his throat. She moved quicker than lightning, suddenly looming over him, with her face only a breath away from his own, her arms nearly trapping him beneath her.  
     “I am but a poor circle mage, dear Crow, locked away in a tower all my life.” She looked down shyly, biting her lower lip before looking back up at him through her lashes. “You’ve been all across Thedas–seen things I can only  _dream_  of.”  
     “I-I suppose..” Zevran said, all of a sudden not knowing where to look as she wet her lips and inched closer to him.  
     “Perhaps you could…” her eyes darted away quickly before returning and boring into his with an intensity that he swore could have melted ice, “teach me how to kiss?”  
     Her lashes fluttered, her cheeks flushed, and she exhaled, her breath ghosting tantalizingly across his lips. What else could he say, but ‘yes’?  
     He pressed forward, more gently than he ever thought he might whenever he fantasized about kissing Kalliah. Zevran brushed his lips across hers, feeling her sigh into him, her rigid arms by his sides seeming to relax slightly. Allowed a touch more space in which to move, he leaned forward, lifting a hand into her braided hair to brush the small pieces around her face away. A stray finger of his brushed the tip of her pointed ear, and a sound almost like a growl sounded from deep within her throat. Suddenly, she pulled away, leaving him almost worried, before his eyes fluttered open and he saw her pupils blown wide with desire, nestled in a face bearing a lascivious smirk, and eyes so devious that Zevran knew he was in trouble.   
     Kal surged towards him, her thighs coming to either side of his lap, pinning him beneath her. She tugged on his bottom lip with hers, pulling it into her mouth with her teeth to give it a sharp nip that left him gasping. As she was pressing him down against her furs, he tightened his hand in her hair on instinct, and he  _felt_  more than heard her moan into his mouth. Their lips clashed again and again, bruising, insistent, and downright delicious. This was a dance, fighting for control. This was a duel, a clash for power and dominance.  _This_  was not something that needed to be taught. What felt like eons later, they pulled apart again, both panting, chests heaving, faces flushed, and lips aching sweetly.   
     “It is rare that I am conned,” Zevran whispered against her lips, “or that I meet someone more suave than I. Even rarer than that is when I am rendered speechless.”  
      “Then perhaps I haven’t kissed you hard enough…” Kal retorted, and she had barely enough time to smirk before Zevran pulled her back down for another searing kiss.


	8. "How long have you been standing there?" "Longer than you'd like." Hawke x Isabela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accidental confession from Isabela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by ma-sulevin on tumblr!

 In the swampy, late-night, lowtown humidity, Isabela ran a single hand through her uncomfortably tangled hair, feeling it practically crunch beneath her fingers as she stared at the sea. She gave her head a sharp toss and scraped her hands across her face, hoping the harsh motion would wake her up a bit. When that failed to work, she brought the bottle in her hand to her lips, finishing the last dregs of rum and then throwing it against the pale walls of a warehouse, watching it shatter.  
     When she entered the Hanged Man, Bela was both unsurprised and un-thrilled to see a head of short, curling, ginger hair at the bar, amber eyes turned half-lidded at Corff as they begged another drink. Isabela slammed the door to the tavern harder than she intended, and then felt several pairs of eyes turn to her. None burned quite as much as Rowen Hawke’s. Bela scraped her nails against her own neck, meeting Hawke’s flaming gaze as the tracks still stung against her skin. Rowen cocked her head, glass of whiskey dangling dangerously in her hand as her curious gaze bored into Isabela.   
     In avoidance, the pirate stalked up the stairs, grabbing a bottle from her own room before settling on the bed in Varric’s, letting loose a groan as she did so.  
     “Whoa, Rivaini, rough night?” the dwarf asked, an infuriating smirk alight on his face. She only shot him a glare, fingers coming together on the bridge of her nose, pinching tightly as she pretended not to remember the inquiring eyes of the woman downstairs. Varric cleared his throat. Isabela sighed.  
     “Oh, Varric…I fucked her. Maker, but maybe I shouldn’t have, because now I can’t stop thinking about her…and how am I supposed to stop thinking about her when every time I come back here to get drunk, she’s standing there, flirting with Corff and Nora, and all I can think about are her lips, her skin,  _Maker_ , her  _tongue_ ….”  
     Suddenly, the shifting of fabric and delicate cough at the entrance of the apartment was no longer dwarfish and male, but something distinctly familiar and frustratingly cocky. Isabela lifted her head, brows already drawn together in concern, knowing all too well what awaited her as she looked towards the doorway.  
     “How long have you been standing there?” Isabela whined, thumping her head back onto Varric’s pillow.  
     “Longer than you’d like…” replied Hawke, leaning arrogantly against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, smile obvious in her voice.   
     Trying to sit up, Isabela was knocked back onto the bed by the weight of a giddy Hawke, who framed her hands around Bela’s head, red curls falling and tickling Bela’s cheeks gingerly. She laughed before the pirate could say a thing, effectively muting Bela by turning her golden gaze on her, before pressing a blissful kiss to her lips; bruising, insistent, and Isabela could feel the desperation that Hawke tried to bleed into her through her teeth on Bela’s bottom lip, her tongue against her jaw, her fingers against her hip.   
     “You’re an idiot,” Rowen whispered, her forehead pressed against Bela’s,  
     “Maker, I know,” Bela responded, before re-capturing Hawke’s lips once more with her own.


End file.
